


You Deserved Better than You Got

by Holyscar



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dark Brotherhood Questline, Domestic Violence, F/M, Implied Attraction, Murder, Slow Dancing, Stabbing, maybe if you squint, suicide by dark brotherhood, theres not much romance actually, this was written when i was really sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holyscar/pseuds/Holyscar
Summary: just a skyrim angst story/fanfic
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Original Female Character(s), male listener/original female character
Kudos: 3





	You Deserved Better than You Got

Taking long strides through the cold skyrim chill, Solea Amphia wrapped her belted tunic tighter around her. The fur boots she wore did nothing to shield her feet from the cold ground. She regretted moving away from her home and family in the imperial city.   
She shielded the book in her arms under her cloak and continued on her way towards her house in Morthal. The freshly picked nightshade were protectively wrapped in the pouch that sat on her hip.   
“Did you finally scare that husband off Amphia? Ya know, for an Imperial you’d make a good housewife for a Nord!” Benor, the local drunk hollered out, stumbling out of the tavern.  
“Do you see an amulet of Mara, you drunken oaf? No? Then leave me the hell alone,” Solea bit back as she finally climbed the stairs to her residence. She had the house that had been combined by a porch with Alva and Hroggar, who she never really saw.   
Unlocking her house, she quickly entered, immediately hit with the smell of rotting flesh.   
Her husband, well, late husband, lay on the floor, candles lit and surrounding him in a circle. She dropped to her knees by the body, his heart had been cut out for the Black Sacrament she had performed every night since her husband had fallen by her hands.   
Her late husband, Falx, had moved them to the bleak lands of Skyrim to be an adventurer after he had heard about the return of dragons to the land. He had come home late one night in the early hours of the morning, drunken and looking for a fight after losing one with Benor at the inn. Falx had been gone for many days beforehand, and when he finally made it home, he had had a suspicion that Solea had been unfaithful while he was gone. She hadn’t of course, but no amount of protests could quell the rage her husband had within himself, and none of Solea’s cries could still the fists that had beaten into her. When he had finally worn himself out, she had crept out to Falion’s hut and bought a strong poison, swearing him to secrecy, he complied and gave her a healing potion free of charge to free her skin from the bruises and broken ribs.   
She had come back home and fixed his mead with a special ingredient this time. It was Blackbriar mead, so he wouldn’t be able to taste the poison. When he awoke he demanded some food, so she had given him a fresh loaf of bread and his mead. Moments after he had chugged the whole tankard, he fell forward clutching at his chest, before he finally stopped struggling. It wasn’t until she sat down to eat some boiled potatoes that she realized exactly what she had done.   
She had immediately fallen into despair, unsure of what to do next. Solea had spent many nights laying next to his slowly decomposing body, drowning in guilt. Then she had remembered the Aventio boy, he had summoned the Dark Brotherhood, and gotten the old hag at the Riften orphanage killed. Good riddance to that, she had met the woman when she and Falx had dropped by to look at adopting a child, but she had told them the adoptions were closed, and that there were no children available.   
So, drew her to today, she chanted the Black Sacrament over and over again, until finally she noticed the presence before her. A Nord clothed in shrouded robes and a small Imperial dressed as a jester stood before her. She waved towards the table, and began to plate some seared pheasant breast.  
“Ma’am? The contract?” the Nord had politely asked, ignoring the food in front of him.   
“In the bedside table is all the coin my husband,” Solea gestured at the mangled corpse beside the table, “had earned through his travels, if you would take them, I would be delighted to explain your contract.”  
“Cicero?” The Nord prompted, sending his jester companion into movement. Holding up the coin purse the jester cackled.   
“This is almost like when we killed the Emperor, Listener!” The jester seemed overjoyed at the coin that Solea proposed to them.   
“Now be patient Cicero,” addressing Solea, he began to speak again, “This does seem like a lot of coin for a simple assassination, care to explain?”   
Solea slumped in her chair. “It is a simple assassination, yes, but not one that many would think highly of. I killed my husband after he came home drunk one too many times. Now I live in guilt, and fear for what comes next, what happens when the Jarl finds out, when our family gets word in Cyrodiil, and many others. You seem very smart, you know what I’m asking of you.”  
“A coward!” the jester, Cicero, cackled, jumping up and tapping his heels together, “She wishes for the Listener to slay her because she can’t do it!”   
“Yes, yes, don’t rub it in.” Solea sighed, putting her head in her hands, “So, will you do this?” She pleaded, finally looking at the Listener before her. He was of smaller stature than other Nords, leading her to believe that he wasn’t full blooded. His blond hair swept down his neck in curls, peeking out of his hood. His strong jawline and hard set mouth screamed Nord, but his soft nose and brown eyes seemed to whisper Imperial.   
“I will admit, I’ve never been in a situation where this was asked of me, besides Astrid, but that was a very different situation,” The Nord shakily replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Cicero?”  
“Hm, Cicero has never had a contract where they wanted themselves dead!” Cicero hummed as he answered. “What did Dear mother say?”   
“Just said to seek Solea Amphia out in Morthal. I guess if she says it is to be done, then it is to be done hm?” The Listener spoke, standing out of his chair, extending his hand to the Imperial sitting in front of him.   
Solea smiled thankfully, and grabbed his hand, he pulled her close, and danced her around her home, while Cicero gleefully tapped around in front of the door to the cellar.   
“You deserved better than you got,” the Listener whispered in Solea’s ear, sheathing his knife into her sternum, mid spiral. Her weight grew heavy in his arms, and she smiled up at him, blood beginning to trickle out of the corner of her mouth. He laid her down in her bed, and shut her eyes as he turned towards the door of the home.   
“Come, Cicero, I think I need a drink,” was echoed into the now silent house, and the Listener sighed as he shut the door and headed back towards the sanctuary at Dawnstar.


End file.
